


professionalism is encouraged

by fuwaesthetic



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuwaesthetic/pseuds/fuwaesthetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The workplace demands certain responsibilities, and Crystal does her damnedest to uphold them. As usual, Gold does not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	professionalism is encouraged

Gold starts working part-time at the Lab. Partly to annoy her, and partly to keep her company. The extra cash in his pocket to use for dates doesn’t hurt either, and Crystal doesn’t mind his company. Or the way he leans over her in his (stolen) lab coat while she’s doing paperwork, or the way his hand covers her so nicely when he lays it on hers and writes a few figures he collected on his own.

She has to be professional though; she has to appear it and she has to feel it, and his lips hot on her neck and his free hand working down the buttons of her own lab coat isn’t professional at all. Nor is the way her legs shake and clench together when he sucks on her skin and slides his hand beneath her shirt. It feels tight, coiling, and incredibly restricting — so she doesn’t mind when he pulls it up, above her breasts and her bra, and she sighs when the cold air of the Lab hits her skin. He maps routes across her goosepimple mountains and nuzzles what she’s sure is an A-Class hickey on her neck. It’s warm and wet, and she gasps when he blows on it.

Professional, professional — he’s very professional when it comes to convincing her to push her chair to the side and moving her papers, pens, and books so she can make him sit on her desk. Her fingers fumble with the buttons of his pants, his zipper, and he chuckles low and husky that she still wasn’t used to it, was she—?

She’s professional when she pulls his underwear down and wraps a firm hand around him. He sucks in a breath at the contact - because it’s not a gasp, he’d never confess it to being one - and she blushes, because even though this isn’t the first time she’s done it she feels so _good_ when she makes him make sounds. He whispers her name and she strokes him, watching him. She goes faster just to hear him bite his tongue on a shout and squeezes her thighs together when she slows and watches his lips tremble with a silent moan.

He lays back on the desk - even though it’s smaller and his shoulders hang over the edget, and she’s sure it’s really, really uncomfortable to have to hold up his own head - and she giggles when she squeezes him and his head slams back onto the metal. He groans; she apologizes and moves closer to his heat. If she wasn’t supposed to look professional she’d get on top of him — she’d let him wrap his arms around her and her and roll his hips into her, let him put one of her legs across his shoulder and let him kiss her calves.

But she is, so she plays with herself as she plays with him; she wants to collapse the higher she gets herself, even if she’d go faster with his fingers working her instead, and she leans her weight on the desk (and his legs) as the world spins a little. She slacks on him when she feels herself burst and hears him laugh, breathless. Her name out of his mouth is enough - with the rise of one of his legs between hers - to send her over the edge, again, and she finishes him in her mouth. It’s less mess to clean up, even if she’s still not used to it or swallowing, and he kisses her when she lets him sit back up.

He murmurs her loves her, in that adoring, sincere way he has when they’re alone, and she’s glad that his chin is on her head so he can’t see her blush like a silly school girl.


End file.
